


Dirty Comm

by frangipani



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, PWP, Phone Sex, Slice of Life, boring married feelings, mara jade is workin' for the weekend, post-Vision of the Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 12:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frangipani/pseuds/frangipani
Summary: Long distance relationships are hard.





	Dirty Comm

**Author's Note:**

> Ricochet is not getting an update this week because it's hell week over here and I'm still in editing purgatory. Have this vapid piece of fluffy smut instead before we return to the bucket o' angst.

Luke’s private comm pings as he gets into his apartment and he answers almost immediately. Based on this precise time and the encrypted channel it can only be one person.

“What have I missed?” Mara speaks just as the line opens without so much as a greeting. Hers is a casual question, but the excitement in her voice makes warmth spread through him, a feeling of fullness that wasn’t there before.

He’s been waiting to hear from her for days.

“Not much," he says footsteps feeling lighter instantly. "Just got home." 

Artoo tootles a greeting from his docking station. 

"Hi, Artoo." Luke walks over to the table and shrugs off his cloak, draping it on the chair. He fishes out a couple of datacards and his datapad from a pocket, placing them on the table.

“You're just getting in now? Let me guess, meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting.”

“Nothing more exhausting than listening to sentients argue.” He can see her rueful smile.“Wouldn’t mind a trance over that, actually," he quips as he walks over to the bedroom. “Bet you feel great.” 

“I do...but I’m not looking forward to going back in while everything happens around me. Always wonder what kind of mess I’ll wake up to.” 

Just her mentioning going back under deflates him a bit, and he looks at his chrono. Going by her flight plan she just came out of hyperspace and her trance minutes ago; the route she’d plotted took her close to some planet in the Viktar system. She only has about half an hour on the sublights, maybe less, before she clears the shadow and has to take to lightspeed again to make it to the _Starry Ice_ by her anticipated arrival time. 

“What were the meetings about?” 

Luke undoes the belt and sash and places them on the bureau. “Oh, same as before -- Fondor and Kuat wanting Jedi to mediate--”

“Kriff them.” He smiles as he folds the tabard and leaves it beside the belt and sash, having expected that reaction. “That’s business. They need to figure it out themselves.”

His smile vanishes too soon. “Tension is still burning up between Kahlprin and Veron.”

Her voice lowers, earlier flippancy gone. “No change, huh? So you’re sending Jedi?” 

“Not sure.” He’s been thinking and meditating on it for a while without being certain, still hoping he won’t have to. Luke wanders back out to the living room. “Madurrin and Streen maybe.”

“Isn’t Madurrin settling that dispute with the Science and Tech Council?”

“Yeah, that’s more of a bureaucratic issue, and I think she's almost done. I might have to call on Streen too, though. I’d rather send two to defuse things on both ends.”

The prospect doesn’t make him happy. He hadn’t had anything lined up for Madurrin just yet, but Streen had been wanting to go see the Jedi library at Ossus for a year now. It was only recently that Luke had been able to spare him from his teaching commitments at the academy. In truth, he could have simply sent Streen with Tionne, instead of Kam, to Ossus -- Tionne _had_ offered to take Streen along, and Kam would accommodate as he had always done -- but Luke had been reluctant to separate Tionne and Kam. They spent too little time together as it was between Tionne’s research trips and Kam’s own teaching duties at the academy.

“It’s gotten to that?”

“Not yet,” Luke adds quickly. As much as the Jedi had increased from decades ago, they were still too few for the demand. Always too few for the demand.

He sighs and rubs his face as he sits on his couch, reaching down to pull off his boots. “Most of the meetings were with sectors who could act as intermediaries. I wouldn’t have even met with KDY if --”

“You actually met with Kuat’s people?” There’s an outraged edge to it. “Where was Mokh?” 

“Busy keeping the other dozens of senators and lobbyists at bay.” Luke can’t keep some chagrin off his voice and braces himself. 

Mara blows out an exasperated breath. “I told you. You should have made Mokh tell everyone you’d left to the Praxeum already.”

“Tempting,” is all Luke allows himself to concede. It sits uneasily to lie that way in the public sphere, even if the alternative was to become a target for opportunists. The Devaronian administrator of the Order's Coruscant Headquarters knows this well. Everyone at the HQ tries to keep Luke's periodic visits on a need to know basis, but word always leaks out. Luke doesn't envy how much interference Mokh and his aides run on a daily basis. 

“Or told KDY to kriff off.”

“They’re insistent.”

He can see her rolling her eyes. But she lets the matter drop and he’s grateful. Their time together, even with lightyears between them, is too precious to waste on arguments. 

Her voice softens at the next. “Dinner at Han and Leia’s again tonight?”

“That’s the idea, though she’s having another late night at the office trying to see if she can talk down the Kahlprinians from getting that close to the hot zone. Not sure if she’ll make it tonight either.”

Mara lets out a sympathetic hiss. 

“I’ve had lunch with her every day though. It’s Han, the twins and Anakin -- I thought I’d have more free time to spend with them...” Luke lets his voice trail off. “The twins especially, well Anakin too, they’ve all gotten so big. I expect it, but it always surprises me. The twins will be at the Praxeum soon.” It’s a heavy thought. His own niece and nephew coming to train. 

“That's not for a while yet," she says softly. "And you and Leia have been preparing them for years.”

He shakes himself. “I know. Just...it seems closer every day. Anyway, I had Mokh block off some of extra days before I go back. Hopefully nothing new will turn up.”

“Or get worse,” she puts in.

He chuckles dryly. “Or get worse. What about you?”

“Not much from the last time I checked in with Karrde. He still wants to do some runs to the borderlands before they become a formal trade route. Smooth down some ruffled feathers while he’s at it. Part of the respectability thing." 

"It'll take a while to sort out.” Understatement. Karrde's operated from the fringe for decades.

“No kidding. The last crew I met with weren't that thrilled to be forced to go straight. I think they were hoping I was there to tell them the rumors weren't true.” 

"How'd they take the news?"

"They're grudgingly coming along." She hesitates before adding, "Somehow I don't think that it'll always be that easy. Karrde doesn't want everyone either, and some will probably not like being cut loose no matter what he offers." Her voice has taken on some impatience which always happens when a comm goes beyond what she’s used to. It was a little off putting at first, but he’s since realized it’s probably habit. By her own admission Mara’s not all that adept at what she calls ‘recreational comming’. While she’s improved a lot from before when she used to give one word answers to his questions and close the line near instantly after saying goodbye, she still prefers to listen more than talk. “You busy right now?”

He grins at the question's absurdity. “Not until your proximity alarm starts sounding.”

“Good. I thought we could have a dirty comm before I go for some more beauty sleep.”

Luke lets out a loud laugh. She’s silent for a bit too long and he blurts out, “Wait, you’re serious? Oh, okay.”

He’s beginning to worry he’s unwittingly embarrassed her, but he should have known better because Mara only lets out a laugh of her own. 

“Smooth. I was thinking of a reaction more enthusiastic than 'oh okay’.”

He sniffs in protest. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“You’ve done this before?” There’s a bit of hesitance in her voice.

“No, you?”

Mara hums out a negative. He pads over to the bedroom, feeling pleased. No one but him is in the apartment, but it feels more private that way.

“I’m...not sure how this goes." He sits on the bed.

She makes a soft chiding noise. “You don’t say that, Luke.”

Luke chuckles. “Sorry.”

She’s taken on that indulgently exasperated tone she habitually takes with him. It’s not one he’s heard her use with anyone else and it hits him how much he misses her. “You don’t say that either.”

“I thought you hadn’t done this before."

“When you work for an information broker...” Mara chuckles, the sound several pitches lower, heady like ambrostine. “You hear things.”

He’s reminded about the incredibly large document library her datapad has -- everything from obscure planet histories to tech manuals for devices no longer being assembled. He might have even seen a rather extensive list of lowbrow holovid titles listed before she left when she had him look up something unrelated on it. A whole world of other material could be there. He hasn’t found the right moment or way to ask yet. 

“Oh?” He plays along. “So what _does_ one say?” 

“You say...that you miss me.”

That’s easy. The last time he saw her was a little over three weeks ago. They’d always known they’d have to spend time apart while Mara closes up her obligations to Karrde. It's more difficult than he'd imagined. He doesn't like thinking about it too much.

“I do,” Luke says quietly. “I do miss you. A lot.”

“What do you miss?”

He sighs. For a second he doesn’t know where to start. “I miss...” In his mind’s eye he sees her smile as she looks up at him from her datapad. 

“I miss your smile.”

She clicks her tongue. “That’s the wrong thing to say.” 

He shrugs, a pointless gesture she’s not here to see, and laughs a little both at the shrugging and the faux pas. This is supposed to be titillating, but even if it doesn’t turn out that way, it’ll still be her voice and their laughter, something else they can keep for themselves. 

“But sweet,” Mara amends. “I miss your smile too.”

“You’ll get the holocam set up?” That should help. His mind is already there and seeing her...like that...

It’s a provocative thought.

“Once I get back to the _Starry Ice_. Try again, you miss...”

“I miss...” Luke is brought back to her smile and her lips as the corners draw up. “Your lips,” he finishes. 

“Promising. Go on. And how are my lips?”

“Soft.” He goes through the memory. “I love kissing you,” he says in a feat of bravery, which feels misplaced because they’re married. It’s such a small thing. All of it is, or should be, but then, they’ve only been married for a couple of months. Their engagement wasn’t much longer either. Seems like it was.

Maybe it was all the minutiae for appearances’ sake. The right dress. The right venue. The right things to say for the media. Neither of them needed any of that.

Her voice brings him back. “Do you?”

“Yes.” It's obvious she wants him to go on, and he just follows the memory. “You turn your head up and sigh.” Like she’s pushed everything aside for this moment. For him. “You’re...there.” He doesn’t feel like that covers it at all, but Mara isn’t laughing. She waits, now as she did then. “I like the shape of your lips and...how they feel when...I touch them.” 

He winces. It may sound weird, but it’s not at all in the memory when he traced the outline of her lips with the pad of his index finger. She’d sighed again, the whisper of her breath damp on his finger and tilted her head up, the green of her eyes spellbinding.

“Where do you like them?”

He blinks. “On mine.” That’s a kiss. He misses that with a dull ache, the fullness of her lower lip, sinking his hands into her hair.

Mara makes a faint disapproving sound. “Dirty comm, farmboy.” It’s lightly teasing and he laughs sheepishly.

But she continues low and suggestive. “I’ll tell you where I like my lips.”

He straightens up, just her tone makes his pulse begin drumming faster. 

“I like them on your chest, just below your collarbone.”

He finds himself grunting out agreement.

“You like that too, I know. A little teeth.”

Luke inhales, almost feeling the brush of her hair, feathery on his skin.

“I like my hands on you.” He can see her smile, different from the gleaming one from before. Now it’s suggestive too. “Your shoulders. Down your arms. Now,” her voice goes pensive, “where would your arms be?”

He doesn’t have to think about it. “Your waist.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, they would be. Are you still dressed?”

The question jars him a little. He is and he’s aroused, though only vaguely so. Less now that he’s back to his present, his empty room.

“I am,” he says, awkwardness rising. “You are too. Piloting.”

“I am perfectly capable of piloting one-handed.”

The suggestion sends heat right down to his cock, and he’s leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“One-handed,” he echoes.

“You should get rid of your pants. My flightsuit is half off. Kind of chilly here. Rubbing helps.”

He draws a breath, head swimming, imagining her hand under the unzipped flightsuit, under her tank, cupping her breast, thumb rolling across her stiff nipple. His own hand snakes to his thigh, pauses before dragging the heel of it down to where he’s half hard.

“Rubbing where?”

“First thing’s first. Are your pants off?”

He works the fastenings and lifts his hips to push them down, gets rid of his underwear while he’s at it. The visceral curiosity that comes over him makes all his earlier self consciousness evaporate like petrol into the air.

“That’s against regulation,” he murmurs. This really shouldn’t feel like this. He’s not nineteen anymore. “Flying one-handed.”

“Oh?” Mara’s voice dips. “Gonna report me?”

Luke lets out a low laugh. “No. You just hate it when things are against regulation.”

“I put the ship on autopilot. It won't need me until the alarm starts," she says in that indulgent tone, but then her tone shifts to breathier, darker. “Besides what’s a rule if you can’t break it from time to time?”

He's still caught by the image of her one hand on the stick, one hand inside her tank, stripped flightsuit bunched around her hips. “Where are your hands?” 

“Are your pants off?”

His pulse races. “Yes.”

“Is your hand on your cock?” The bluntness shocks him a little, a thrill racing down his spine. His hand closes on his length and he tries a stroke before he can help himself. It feels good, good enough to want to do it again. 

“It is, isn’t it?" Your breathing’s changed.” So has hers in fact. “That reminds me...”

“Of?” Luke manages, stroking again, going slow, half knowing what she’s going to say.

“When you fuck me.” His hips snap up all the same. “You breathe like that. When you first push inside, inch by inch.” He finds himself mimicking the pace, a maddeningly slow stroke. “Inch by inch. Why do you do that? So slow?”

She might not be expecting a reply, but he bursts out, “Because it makes you clench. Like...” Just the memory of her, tight and slick, makes more heat swoosh down his spine, another thrust into his hand. A hard exhale rushes out of his diaphragm. “Like you want...more.”

She breathes in. “I do.”

And Luke can see it -- her body twisting under his, the curve of her throat exposed as she throws her head back, nipples hard, her breasts pushing up with the arch of her back, the heave of her chest as she pants, just slightly faster than she is now.

“Your hands,” he insists. “Where are they?” He wants to drag his own up from the dip of her waist to her shoulder, along flushed skin as he strokes inside her, drag his palms down on the backstroke to squeeze her breasts. 

“One's under my shirt. Playing with my tits.”

It takes him a second to realize that sharp choked sound came from him.

“Should be your hand.”

He's about to ask about the other when she speaks again. “Squeezing tight as you fuck me.”

“I was thinking of that,” he interjects a bit out of breath. He realizes he’s going faster and makes himself slow down.

“Fucking me?”

“Yes.”

She huffs out a laugh. “You can say it, you know.”

“I know,” he pants. “Just like hearing it from your mouth more.” 

A lot more, he's about to add, but she asks, “Fucking me how?”

Luke closes his eyes. It’s half fantasy, half memory. “On your back in bed.” Her hair disheveled, her thigh sliding against his hip, skin warm and damp, as he rocks into her. “Steady.”

“And your hands?

“One’s on your breast.” 

“The other?”

“It...wanders. All over. From your shoulder to your hip.”

Mara makes a sound -- not quite a whimper, but close. “My other hand is wandering too now.”

“Where,” he has to stop to lick his dry lips, “is it now?”

“Between my legs.” It’s a whisper, but the thrusts into his hand pick up speed at the visual taking shape, her hand inside her underwear, hips tilted against it. Her back would be slightly bent forward, loose strands of her braid falling over her face, her other hand under her tank, cupping her breast, thumb stroking across her nipple as her hips work against her hand.

“Thought about you when I went under. Thought of you after I woke up.”

Maddening doesn’t begin to describe the feeling, the keen longing to have her here. To be there. "Thinking about what?"

"You touching me. You inside me."

Luke gulps a breath before he asks, “How...does it feel? Between your legs.”

“Wet. Good, but not enough.” Her breathing is heavier. “Rather push up against you. Feel you hard against me.” 

Luke takes in a shaky breath at the mental image of her grinding against her hand, the memory of her thigh sliding against his.

She pauses. “What do you want to do?”

“Feel how wet you are. Inside.” 

Her breathing hitches. “A finger inside me.”

And while imagining her slipping her finger inside while she’s grinding against her hand on the pilot's couch is good in its own borderline scandalous way, his mind conjures her on his bed, splayed and wanton before him and that’s better. They haven’t done _that_ yet.

“How does it feel?” Her knees would be bent, she’d be rolling her hips. He wouldn’t be able to keep from touching her, running his hands all over her legs, fingers skimming over her midriff, pressing his lips against her inner thigh, the musky scent of her an invitation to taste, but there’d be time for that. For the moment it’d be good to just look knowing he can. No one else has seen her like that, he's sure. The thought makes the air heavier around him. No one else ever will. 

“Better. But not enough. Two now. Tighter. Sure you wouldn't want me to suck your cock? That makes me wet too.”

He murmurs a curse. "How wet? Now."

"Making a mess all over my fingers, all over my underwear. Because of you."

His hips jolt -- at the image she's painting, at the harshness of her breaths along with it. “You’ll show me next time.”

“Anything you want," she says and the statement flares, passes over him like an actual touch. He wants to respond to it so much it hurts. 

She continues relentlessly, "But I-- I rather you-- you fuck me. Fuck me until I can’t think.” Her breath goes even more erratic and he doesn’t know whether it's her words or her breathing that is driving him closer. “I want -- I want that. More.”

"I want to," he finds himself assuring her. "I will."

Her voice rises again right after. “Three inside, better, but I want _you_.”

He groans at the near plaintive stretch of the vowel. “I wouldn’t go slow,” he promises between his own labored breaths, his grip slick as he strokes. “You don’t...you don’t... want me to.”

“No. Fuck me like..." He tightens a hand at the base of his cock as his hips buck up at it. "Like you need it...” He slows down minutely. _Not yet_.

“Mara,” he blurts out, “I want you here. Now. Want you-- I want you...wanting me like that... when I’m inside you. Make you moan.”

“Yeah?” Her voice is raspy and ragged, but there’s still an undercurrent of challenge in it that is all her. He can meet it gasp for gasp, thrust for thrust.

“That spot right under your jaw. The way you smell, the taste of you...you taste good there, everywhere. I’d get my mouth on you, get you so you’re dripping, shaking. Make you come until you're hoarse.” 

She moans softly and he’s close. He won’t stop himself this time. “I want to be inside you again.”

He can almost feel the heat of her choppy breaths, still see her spread on his bed, feel her quiver and squeeze around him when he pushes into her, feel all of her against him, her chest against his, her arms at his back, legs tight around his hips, sense open and all-encompassing, her feelings resonating along his with a vibrancy all their own. 

And the overlay of fantasy with his memories pulls him under, the way her body jerks, her nails biting into his skin when she clings tight, her shapely mouth open in a wet gasp. He’s pulsing into his closed fist, coming hot and fast to the sound of her sobbing breaths, wild like the beat of his heart.

The line has gone silent. 

Luke reaches out as the haze from his climax clears. Right then it feels like the only thing he _can_ do. She’s so far it takes effort to only sense her, the bond accessible only through a meditative state. It won't be enough, but it's the only counter to the bittersweet feeling that floods him now.

Her response returns as a flicker through the Force, no more than a whisper or the brush of her fingertips against his own, but it's purposeful despite the distance. It's not much, but it’s something. For now, they can make it be everything.

“I miss you,” she says thickly. 

“Me too,” he whispers, but knowing she shares that ache makes it tolerable somehow. 

Mara's voice lightens to its usual tone, the melancholy underneath almost undetectable. He wishes he could reach for her hand. “You’re not terrible at this, Luke. Where did that come from?”

He forces some cheer into himself. “You’re not so bad yourself.” They both know there's nothing to be gained from dwelling. “All that eavesdropping...”

The indulgent tone is back. “I knew shouldn’t have said a damn thing.”

“Get that holocam set up once you get in.” He ambles to the 'fresher and cleans himself, fixing his clothes. “A view is even better.”

She laughs. “I’m sure. I’m out of the gravity well. I’ll comm you once I drop out of hyperspace.”

“Do that,” he says, washing his hands. “Mara?”

“Mm?”

“Did you...?” He’s pretty sure, but he wants to hear it.

“Did I what?” She pauses but not long enough. Her voice lowers. “Did I just come with three fingers tight in my sopping wet cunt thinking of your cock and your mouth--”

He drops the comm. The device skitters across the sink, and he scrambles after it, clumsy fingers bumping against it, and sending it careening through the air until it drops right into the toilet. He mutters a curse and calls it to the sink, leaves it there as he rushes out the ‘fresher in search of his spare comm in a pile of electronics. He’ll deal with the one on the sink later when Mara’s not about to go into hyperspace. 

"Artoo, can you pair the mic with my reciever signal?" Luke calls out as he darts out into the living room with the comm in hand. He would do it himself, but that would take precious minutes.

Artoo warbles a question. 

“I dropped it into the toilet. Hurry, Mara's about to go to lightspeed.” A few seconds later, Artoo is done.

He beeps a warning.

"It's fine for now, thanks," Luke replies as he hurriedly keys in Mara’s code. "We'll deal with getting the encryption on it after." All they have time for are goodbyes anyway.

“What happened?” she says after opening the line. He can hear the alarm blaring the all clear to make the jump in the background.

“Nothing. Just dropped the comm.”

Mara chuckles, but it fades too soon. “I love you. I have to go make the jump.”

He hates this part, because at least her voice is something, and now he won’t even have that...for days. “Love you too. Have a good sleep.”

There’s an incremental pause. “You’ll think of me?”

The question sparks up that same sense of fullness first hearing her voice does. It’s not too different from seeing the first glimpse of space after clearing the atmosphere. It's knowing Mara thinks of him as much as he does her, and the distance, for a fleeting instant, feels like nothing at all.

“Nonstop. You know that.”

She lets out a contented sound. “I'll talk to you in two days. Say hi to the gang for me.” With a reluctant sigh she closes the line, and he’s left alone in his apartment, the dead comm a reminder of the half-lives they lead while they’re apart.

With a sigh of his own he puts the comm away and thinks of the datacards. He has that and no doubt whatever other crisis is soon to surge to occupy himself with. 

It’s not forever, he tells himself. He’s seen plenty of couples around him in similar situations, Han and Leia did their own time for a good while even after the twins. Two days from now he’ll hear from Mara again and hopefully have some good news to report, but even if he doesn’t, even nothing changes and all they have to say to each other is trivial, she’ll still be right there. They both will.

A bit more brightened, Luke looks over to the ‘fresher and makes a face. He needs to get that old comm back, sanitize it, and see what the damage is. More than a bit of embarrassment wells up and he rubs his forehead. He supposes it's high time to invest in one of those hands free comlinks to replace it. He suspects Mara will feel duty bound to give him grief about it when she finds out the circumstances. He doesn't really have to tell her the details.

A grin comes over Luke's face. He will, regardless. 

It's her fault, after all.


End file.
